Can I Love You?
by Kumiho99
Summary: Lovino Vargas, Age 21 He was just a man. One man. He's no one special. Just another one in the billions out there. But one day in the restaurant he owns, a man that seemed to be one in a million enters his life. And this man seeks an adventure. And not one of the normal kind. Now Lovino wonders what in the universe he had gotten himself into. (Spamano, rated M for later chapters.)


_A/N: Hey! Another new story to add to my busy life! Why not! _

_AU story. Please enjoy._

_Dispatch: I NEED A BETA!_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. It is own by Hima-papa. Love him, not me._

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Lovino Vargas was not one much for the emotion known to people called love.

It was inevitable. This Italian, against stereotypical belief for all Italians, hated the so called "love".

In his own opinion it was a waste of time. This time could be used for the better. It can be used to do something much more useful. Something more necessary than to dote over another person. But this Italian's problem was this: what was he supposed to use this extra time on? He certainly didn't have any talent other than cooking, and he did enough cooking at the international restaurant he co-owned with his brother. So what is this time going to be put to use for? Lovino certainly had... No idea.

You can't blame the Italian! He was only 21, an age spent by most pondering over what to do with their life. This wasn't his time to be deciding on things, and Lovino knew that. And he would keep it that way for as long as one could.

So now you wonder, what could this story be about? After reading the summary you may have a faint idea on what this little Fanfiction, among so many others, could be about? Well this is a story on a queer couple and their journey through hardships and rewards. But we are getting ahead of ourselves here, why don't we go back to out grumpy Italian.

It was a normal Autumn morning. The sun was shining, birds singing their songs as they flew to the sky, some heading toward the south, some staying to endure the cold. The beautiful red and gold leaves fluttered down to the ground, rustling out their story. The crisp air sharp with the coming of winter was fresh and clear. And a certain man with dark brown hair and olive complexion was stomping down the sidewalk, disturbing the leaves telling their tales back into the air, where they crunched grumpily back at the intrusion.

Said man was Lovino Vargas, the main protagonist of this story. He was currently headed toward the restaurant I mentioned earlier. But this man was not happy, which was not rare. As he stormed into said restaurant, named not surprisingly "Bon Appetite", (Our Lovino did not choose this name, it was his little brother Feliciano. We will get to him soon.) he slammed the door open, his head sticking into the kitchen.

"Where is Feliciano!" the man called out, his brows furrowed with displeasure.

"Right here fratello! Is there something wrong?" Feliciano replied back positively, his head poking out of the supply room where his arms were laden with food items such a crate of tomatoes, a wheel of cheese, and a bottle of olive oil.

Lovino steamed over, his hazel eyes narrowing. "Feliciano! What did I say about leaving the refrigerator door open at the house!"

Trivial things. That's what Lovino could be found fuming about about eighty percent of the time. But again, don't blame this Italian! Even if he was raised in a rich family, his persona has caused him to be frugal with certain things, and even though it wasn't as bad as the piano teacher down the street or the gunsmith across from them, it still was enough to be called slightly frugal.

Feliciano set the items down, his head tilted in confusion. "What do you mean fratello?"

Lovino sighed, picking up a tomato from the box his brother had set down, scanning as if observing it for bruises. "The _fridge. _You left it open. Don't you think that's a bit of a toll on our electricity bill? Dammit, money does NOT grow on trees."

His younger brother smiled sheepishly, a hand resting on his chestnut brown hair. "Scusami fratello, when I think back about it, I guess I may have left it open. I was taking out the milk for cereal and I guess I forgot to close it again."

Lovino harrumphed and put the tomato back into the crate, his eyes shifting to look at the clock. "Fine, I'll forgive you this time, but next time you do so I won't be so merciful. And where is that French bastard? He's late. Again."

Feliciano tilted his head, his mouth pursed as he thought. "Francis? He's late all the time. I think we should just wait for him. We don't open for another fifteen minutes."

Lovino glanced at his golden-brown eyed brother, a frown forming on his face. "Whatever. Do what you want." With those five words he exited the kitchen to get ready in the office.

"Well, isn't he a pocketful of sunshine like usual?"

Feliciano spun to see Mathias Kohler walk in. This man is another character in this story, although his role along with his other affiliates will have much larger parts later. The golden haired man was carrying a wooden chair, his red sweatshirt bright against paler colors of the kitchen, jeans loose against his frame.

"Fratello isn't usually this grumpy. I just did something wrong in the morning. Don't be too hard on him."

The Danish man sighed, positioning the chair to rest on his shoulder. "Yeah yeah, its just that sometimes he should lighten up sometimes, ya' know? Be more loose." He shrugged, his eyebrows raising. "Can't he learn to enjoy life?"

Feliciano looked down, a small smile on his face. "Fratello was once happier. But ever since a certain day he hasn't been the same. I guess I wouldn't know since I haven't ever been through something like that, but I want him to be happy again." The Italian man looked up, his eyes widening. "That's right, the shipment! How much is it?"

Mathias grinned. "Its sixty bucks, a special discount for ya' since your so kind to have given us free meals when we first came." He set down the chair, his other hand reaching into his jean pocket to take out a notepad. "I just need your signature right here and the money can be given by the end of the week."

Feliciano waved his hands, his face distressed. "We can't just accept something like that! I'll get the money to you today! I guess fratello will probably do it since he's in charge of the money..."

As Feliciano signed the notepad Mathias took a swig of water from the water dispenser in the corner of the room. "Hey, if its not to much to ask, can I ask why you needed a replacement chair?"

The smaller man closed the notepad and handed back pen and pad to the Dane. "Ah, let's say a certain acclaimed Prussian had too much fun during the anniversary party. I don't blame them, it was me who accidentally fell on him." He closed his eyes and smiled. "I guess I'm too clumsy for my own good."

Mathias rubbed the top of Feliciano's hair, a smile in place. "Don't be too harsh on yourself." He then turned and waved. "See ya' later! Me and my pals might stop by for dinner later!"

Feliciano cried back "Looking forward to it!"

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Now back to the older of the Vargas brothers. This man was changing into his waiter suit, his eyes pausing to look at the oak wood of the floor. When was it that he had last smiled? When was it that he wore this suit and enjoyed what he did? Lovino shook his head, erasing the thoughts from his head.

"When do I start thinking like that when I should be getting ready? Just keep going." Lovino muttered to himself as he straightened, his hand straightening his hair, peering at his own reflection in the wall mirror next to his desk. The suit was any regular waiter uniform. It was a white dress shirt with a black vest, a black tie at his neck. The bottoms were just black jeans. Average. Normal.

Lovino sighed and put his other clothing into the closet where he kept his uniform. He was anything but normal, who was he kidding?

He turned when he heard a knock at the door. "Fratello? Its time to open!"

Lovino straightened his tie, his brow furrowed in annoyance. "Is that bastard Francis here yet?"

"Yes! He arrived just now! He says he was fashionably late, like usual."

"Fine, tell him not to do that anymore."

"Okay!"

Lovino checked himself once last time in the mirror. Who is this person in the mirror? _What _was this person in the mirror? Was he wanted? Was he needed? Could he be called a person? He shook his head again, his eyes closed, fists clenched. These weren't questions he should ask himself. Later. He will deal with it all... all of it... later.

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If Bon Appetite could be described in one word, it would be warm. Both warm physically and mentally. The walls were a warm brown, not unlike Feliciano's own hair color. The size of the restaurant was not big, but even if it could not boast about its size it was not one that could be small either. The tables were all wooden pine, the chairs all made to match. A fireplace at the front of the restaurant completed the overall ambiance of the eatery. Overall it was a setting that you would expect from a cottage or your own living room.

It was in this environment that the Vargas brothers and their staff worked. Now you are probably wondering, and even if you are not let me indulge you in this question: Why did Lovino Vargas work as a waiter with his negative personality? A question often asked by a regular customer. And always answered the same way.

"Come on Lovino! Why _did _you become a waiter if you knew that some people would probably piss you off?" Gilbert, the self acclaimed Prussian mentioned before and proud albino, asked as he leaned back in his chair, looking at the Italian man who was clearing a table.

"Like I said. I want to interact with people. That's it." Lovino snapped back, his back still turned on the albino. He picked up the tub containing the dirty dishes and turned, staring right into Gilbert's eyes, hazel clashing with red. "And stop asking me. I will say the same thing _every fucking time. _Now leave me alone. And don't lean in that chair, its the same one we had to buy because of your stupid actions last week."

Gilbert clicked his tongue, waggling his finger in a contradictory way. "Now now, don't be mad. You need to have fun! Now when I was your age Romano, I-"

Lovino slammed the tub onto Gilbert's table, his face red as he glared at the Prussian. He marched forward and jabbed a finger into the bigger man's chest, his teeth gritting.

"Don't. Call. Me. That. Name."

Gilbert put his hands up, his eyes wide, brows shooting upward. "W-what's wrong with that name Lovi? You used to tell everyone to start calling you that name when you were younger, so what's-"

Romano stomped his foot, his fists clenching. "I said don't call me that. Or Lovi. Do not make me kick you out of my restaurant."

Gilbert sighed, pushing the Italian away. "Okay I got it, just don't bite my head off, Lovino."

Lovino shot one last glare at the albino before picking up the tub again, storming into the kitchen. He marched to the sink and slammed the tub next to it, startling the brown haired man washing the dishes next to him.

"M-Mr. Vargas? Are you okay?" the man asked, his nervous smile wavering. This man I will introduce as Toris Lorinaitis, one of Lithuanian origin. If a sentence could describe him, it would be meek but hard-working. A smile could always be found on his face. Always. Okay, maybe that was an exaggeration.

"Toris I'm not in the mood to talk, so shut up."

The Lithuanian nodded and continued his work, too used to the brash way of his bosses' speech.

A blond male then waltzed in from the supply room, holding a basket of bread. His unusually long tresses of blond hair were tied at the back in a ponytail, kept in place with a purple ribbon. His attire was that of a normal chef, a white uniform, apron, and one of those absurdly tall hats. This man is Francis Bonnefoy, the employee that was always "late for fashion."

"Ah Lovino! We are almost out of parsley! I would like Lili to maybe go to the Farmer's Market on Sunday to get some more for the stock."

Lovino screamed in frustration and stomped out of the kitchen into the office.

Francis set down the basket of bread, one of his perfectly trimmed eyebrows raised. "Was it something I said?"

Toris smiled. "He's just in one of his moods. It will pass." he assured, his green eyes still on his work.

The French men nodded, his blue eyes closed. "When will he get over it? It has been three years now. He needs to learn that is wasn't his fault. Its not him." He sighed and picked up a loaf of bread, setting it on the cutting board. "Oh well, I guess it really isn't any of my business."

The smaller man looked down at his hands, covered in calluses and scars. "Yeah. I guess so."

xxxxxxxxxx

"Fratello."

"What?"

"You should probably get back out you know. We are short on waiters and waitresses today..."

"Where is Lili?"

"She's still in school Fratello. It's only two o'clock."

"What about Raivis? Yong Soo?"

"School."

"Are all our waiters younger than eighteen?"

"Other than you and Yao, pretty much fratello..."

Lovino lifted his head from the desk where he was sitting at, his eyes narrowed. The door was knocked again, his waiting younger brother calling out. "Fratello! Yao is being overwhelmed by the orders, and since he also cooks he's sort of busy. Could you maybe please come out?"

Lovino stood up, his hands on the desk. "Fine dammit, will be out in like thirty seconds!" He could hear the hectic shouts and cries out in the kitchen, many of them belonging to Yao.

"We need a plate of spaghetti with meat sauce and a bowl of clam chowder stat aru!"

That was definitely Yao.

Yao Wang, Chinese, male, although many question his gender. A talented cook. He can be recognized with his long brown hair that he ties into a ponytail. He usually takes over the waiter job whenever Lovino gets one of his "moods", but with the shortage of hands he was slightly overwhelmed.

Not that Lovino cared.

Okay maybe he did, but I for one as the narrator could not tell.

Lovino straightened his tie and ran a hand through his hair before finally opening to door to come face to face with a breathless Chinese man.

Yao had a hand over his chest, the other on his knee as he bent over panting. "Lovi -huff- no -huff- I need -huff- help." he managed to breathe out, one brown eye closed. He wasn't wearing the usual attire required of a waiter (a red mandarin jacket with white pants), but Lovino didn't complain. It added at least some uniqueness to the restaurant, and that can attract potential customers.

Lovino sighed and stretched. "I'll work with you. Just hurry up and start working."

Yao nodded and scurried off, his ponytail streaming behind him. Lovino tightened his apron and walked outside. Yao was already holding a tray of food, his brown eyes narrowed slightly in concentration. "We need someone at table four Lovino. Could you take that one for me?"

The Italian rolled his eyes and grabbed a pad and pen from his apron pocket. He walked over to the table where a man with tan skin and chocolate brown hair was browsing through the menu. He opened the pad and flatly asked "May I have your order?"

The man straightened as if being caught in something. He lowered the menu and looked up, his emerald eyes sparkling. His grin was that close to an idiot's, but in a knowing way. As if he was grinning about a funny joke or situation. His outfit was not one to impress, a tan polo shirt and cargo pants. But in a way it suited him, expressing him with an understated bold kind of way. He tilted his head.

"Hello, my name is Antonio. May I ask for your name?"

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_First chapter done! Whew, one of the SHORTER chapters of this Fic. Yes, I know, its pretty long. _

_Thank you for sticking with me on this first chapter! If you could only read and review... Ufufufufu..._

_Here's a guide on the employees of Bon Appetite if you need some help!_

_Cook/Waiter/Owner - Lovino - Romano_

_Cook/Owner - Feliciano - Italy_

_Cook - Francis - France_

_Cook/Waiter - Yao - China_

_Cleaner/Errand Boy - Toris - Lithuania_

_Waitress/Errand Girl - Lili_

_Waiter - Raivis - Latvia_

_Waiter/Cashier - Yong Soo - South Korea_

_And now the characters that were mentioned._

_Piano Store Owner - Roderich - Austria_

_Gunsmith/Gun store Owner - Vash - Switzerland_

_Furniture Store Maker/Delivery man - Mathias - Denmark_

_All the other characters will be revealed... later! Maybe I will update sooner if you R&R... OwO_

_REMEMBER I NEED A BETA! QAQ I CAN'T AFFORD TO STAY UP THIS LATE ALL THE TIME!_

_Okay, Kumiho out!_

_=^w^=_


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